Fallout: New Vegas The Story
by Chris The Cat
Summary: Unoriginal title. Basically, my telling of the Courier and how she changes the Mojave forever.  Contains swearing and violence.
1. War Never Changes

FALLOUT: NEW VEGAS

CHAPTER ONE: WAR NEVER CHANGES

_War. War never changes._

_When atomic fire consumed the Earth, those who survived did so in great underground Vaults. When they opened, their inhabitants set out across the ruins of the old world to build new societies, establishing villages, forming tribes._

_As decades passed, what had been the American southwest united beneath the flag of the New California Republic. Dedicated to Old-World values and democracy, and the rule of law. As the republic grew, so did its needs. Scouts set east, seeking territory and wealth in the dry and merciless expanse of the Mojave Desert. _

_They returned with tales of a city, untouched by the warheads that had scorched the rest of the world, and a great wall spanning the Colorado River. The NCR mobilized its army and sent it east, to occupy Hoover Dam, and restore it to working condition._

_But across the Colorado, another society had arisen, under a different flag. A vast army of slaves, forged from the conquest of eighty-six tribes. _

_Caesars Legion. _

_Four years have past since the Republic held the Dam - just barely – against the Legion's onslaught. But the Legion did not retreat. Across the River, it gathers strength. Campfires burn, training drums beat._

_Through it all, the New Vegas Strip has stayed open for business, under the control of its mysterious overseer, Mr. House, and his army of re-habilitated tribals and police robots. _

_Chloe is a courier, hired by the Mojave express to deliver a package to the New Vegas Strip. What seemed like a simple delivery job has taken a turn…for the worse. _

_/_

First, blackness. Blackness and a repetitive scrapping sound. Always there. _Scrape, scrape, scrape_. This sound was annoying, yet somehow soothing. I always liked repetition.

After a short while, (or what seems like it) the scraping awakens me. The first things I feel are my hands and feet bound, while I'm on my knees. The first thing I smell is cigarette smoke, lingering in the air. The first thing I taste is blood. Slightly coppery, nothing new. The first thing I see assures the first thing I felt.

But the first thing I hear is what truly wakes me up.

It's a rough voice. Most voices are rough, the Mojave does that to you, but this voice sounded…menacing. Like a mercenary. Or maybe…

"We got what you were after, so pay up!" the voice yelled, though I doubt it was towards me. "You're cryin' in the rain, palie." Another voice responded. This voice was…different. Lighter. Softer. More arrogant.

Fully realizing my situation, I tried to unbound my hands. Obviously, I failed. I groaned in a mixture of frustration and panic, and this drew attention to me.

"Look's like someone's wakin' up over here," a third voice said. This was another rough voice. In that short time, still looking at my hands, I figured the arrogant one was not one of the rough-sounding ones. The voices were too different, not just in sound and tone, but…it's hard to explain. We'll just call it a sixth sense, alright?

At this point, I decide to look at whoever was, presumably, about to kill me. My eyes rose to meet three figures, two dressed in black leather outfits. They were obviously the thug types, though I couldn't place which group they were from. They seemed to tough to be Vipers, to stable to be Jackals, and they hadn't killed me or worse, so they weren't Fiends. One was unarmed, the other had a shovel. Realization struck me. Scraping, shovel, me tied up…they were going to kill me, and bury me.

The two men in black leather seemed to be eager to get it over with, and if I'd heard correctly, get paid. Who pays to kill a Courier? I studied the tree for a little more. The men in leather, average thugs. But the man in the middle…I had never seen a man like him…

He wore a black and white checkered suit, and his short black hair had far too much hair gel in it. Far too much. I mean, there had to be at least a whole bathtub of it in there. He was smoking (smoke in the air earlier) a very rare brand of cigarette. Even in the dark, I could tell. I never smoked, but I've delivered enough cigarettes to know which are valuable.

This man in his checkered coat threw his fifty cap cigarette on the ground, and stood on it to put it out, smoke still billowing from his mouth. He looked at me, and I looked at his eyes. You can tell a lot about a man by his eyes. And his eyes…were _cold_.

"Time to cash out." The checkered man said darkly, as he walked towards me. He looked patient. The thugs, however, did not. "Will you get it over with?" the one on the left asked. The checkered man, a look of minor annoyance passing over his face for a mere second, without turning, raised his index finger to silence the thug. He opened his mouth to speak.

"Maybe Khans kill people without lookin' them in the face," the checkered coat man said, "but I ain't a fink." He looked back at the thug. "Dig?" He turned back to me. He then reached into his coat pocket. That particular gesture indicates 'I have a gun' and so, accordingly, I began to move around, trying to undo my bonds, again with no success.

But instead, he pulls out something sliver and shiny. My delivery item. A poker chip made entirely out of platinum. The checkered coat man stared at me coldly. "You've made your last delivery, kid." He said. _So that's what this was about_, I thought.

He put the Platinum Chip back in his coat pocket. "Sorry you got twisted up in this scene," he said, and this time, he really did pull out a gun. A nine millimeter, like the one I carried. But his was shiny silver.

He looked at the gun, and then me again, while the thugs (Khans?) shifted around, seemingly wanting to leave. "From where you're kneelin'," he said to me "it must seem like an eighteen carat run of bad luck." He looked me in the eye, and smirked. "But the truth is," he said, pointing the gun at my head. _Oh, God, this is it_, I thought. He cocked it, and the thugs took on expressions of delight.

"The game was rigged from the start."

A loud BANG, a bright flash, slight pain…

Silence.

_/_

_**Well, this is going to be my telling of Fallout: New Vegas (duh!). I hope you liked it so far. I'll try to update when I can. Like, subscribe, yadda yadda yadda. **_

_**The game was made by Bethesda, not me. If I'd made it, it wouldn't be half as good and Cazadors would cease to exist.**_

_**I HATE CAZADORS!**_

_**Chris The Cat**_


	2. Ain't That A Kick In The Head?

FALLOUT: NEW VEGAS

CHAPTER TWO: AIN'T THAT A KICK IN THE HEAD?

_Foomp, foomp, foomp…_

_What is that noise? I…where am I?_

I struggled with it, but I eventually opened my eyes. My vision was blurry, the light was harsh, but I could see! _Oh, I can see! I see…_

_A ceiling fan._

_Well, that's disappointing. _

At that point, the headache that was in hiding somewhere came out, and it may as well have come out yelling, "BOO" because I jumped all the same. I groaned loudly. My brain felt like it was on fire!

I move around a bit, trying to get my bearings. I still have to squint, the light hurting more than helping. I feel the surface under me. It's a bed or a sofa, or something soft.

"Well, you're awake. How 'bout that?"

My first thought was _"My ears work."_ My second thought? _"WHO SAID THAT?"_

I tried to rise, but found my legs decided to take a vacation, and I failed to get up. It's then that I rolled on my side and saw someone sitting in a chair. My vision was still blurry, so I couldn't see them very well. I tried to get up again in panic, but I was greeted with a firm hand that gripped my shoulder. "Whoa, easy there, easy!" the voice said.

I sat, staring at this person, and as my vision returned, I took mental notes on him.

_Human. Male. Caucasian. Looks between fifty and sixty. White mustache. Receding hairline. Hazel eyes. Farm hand outfit. Sitting in a relaxed position. Trusts me not to harm him._

"You've been out cold a couple of days, now." The old man drawled. He seemed…friendly. I relaxed slightly. His voice was calming. "Why don't you just relax a second? Get your bearings?" I felt compelled to do as he asked.

"Now, let's see what the damage is…" he muttered to himself, looking at a little notepad. I don't think he thought I could hear him. He then looked up at me. "How 'bout your name?" He asked.

_Easy enough. My name is…my…my name…what is my name? WHAT IS MY NAME?_

I tried to think back to anything before waking up in this room with this old man. I tried for a while, the old man waiting patiently. _Come on, something, anything to help! _In frustration, I banged my hand against a nearby bedside table. BANG!

"_The game was rigged from the start." BANG!_

I gasped. I remembered…a man in a black and white checkered suit. With a gun. At night. He pointed the gun and…

I felt my forehead, and was greeted with two circular scars. _He…shot me…_

"Uh, miss? If you can't remember your name, then should I give you one?" The old man was talking again. I barely registered the words. "I…no, I'll think…of something…" I said slowly, getting used to the feeling of talking again. _Is that my voice? It's not familiar at all!_

I sat, thinking of my name. Nothing came to mind, until I had just about given up. _Sarah…_something whispered in my head.

"Uh…Sarah." I said, looking at my legs. I looked up at the old man. "My name is Sarah." He smiled warmly at me. "Huh," he said, "can't say that's what I'd have picked for you, but if that's your name, that's your name." He looked at me strangely.

_Hey! That wasn't nice! _

Before I could retort, he continued to talk. "I'm Doc Mitchell." His smile broadened. "Welcome to Goodsprings."

_Where?_

Before I could say anything, he cut me off again. "Now, I hope you don't mind, but I had to go rootin' around there in your noggin to pull all the bits of lead out." Doc Mitchell reached under his chair, still talking to me. "I take pride in my needlework-" he started, before pausing and picking up a strange little device. I recognised it as a RobCo Reflectron. "-but you'd better tell me if I left anything out of place." He gestured for me to turn it on.

"How'd I do?"

The face in the Reflectron was completely alien to me, but I noted it anyway.

_Human. Female. Caucasian. Looks between twenty and twenty-five. Dirty blonde hair tied in a ponytail. Freckles. Green eyes. Two circular scars on the forehead._

Not wanting to alarm him, I smiled weakly. "Yeah, that's…that's me alright." He smiled in return. "Well, I got most of it right, anyway." He stood up. "Stuff that mattered."

He walked over to me and grabbed my shoulder. My _bare _shoulder. I looked down to see what I was wearing. To my embarrassment, all I was wearing was a bra and some underpants. Doc Mitchell looked at my face, and saw me blushing. To his credit, he stayed looking at my face the whole time.

"Okay, no sense in keeping you in bed anymore." He held out his hand. "Let's see if we can get you on your feet."

I held his hand as he pulled me up, and I stood for the most part. I felt dizzy, but the doctor held me upright. "Good!" he complimented. He then looked fleetingly at the other side of the room, before turning back to me. "Why don't you walk down to the end of the room, over by that Vigor Tester machine over there?" I nodded, and made to walk, but he grabbed my shoulder again. "Take it slow, now." He let go. "It ain't a race."

I walked (stumbled, actually) over to what I judged to be the Vigor Tester, Doc Mitchell encouraging me the whole way. When I finally got there, he applauded. "Ooh, lookin' good so far." He said cheerfully. He looked at the Vigor Tester. "Go ahead and give the Vigor Tester a try. We'll learn right quick if you got back all your faculties." He chuckled at that comment.

I turned to the machine. I studied it for a little bit, noting its similarities to a Love Tester machine from before the war. _Hold on, I can remember history! _I was excited for a while, but it served no real purpose, so I went right on ahead to see what the Vigor Tester said about me.

I pressed my finger into the little slot that said 'INSERT FINGER HERE'. I felt a slight pain as the machine drew blood, but it was nothing worth noting. The machine began to whir and click, and I stood for a good thirty seconds before I got my result.

**Strength: 5/Strong**

**Perception: 5/Average**

**Endurance: 5/Tough**

**Charisma: 5/Likeable**

**Intelligence: 10/Savant**

**Agility: 5/Quick**

**Luck: 5/Normal**

_That'…odd. I don't _feel_ smart. _My thoughts were cut of by Doc Mitchell's proclamation of "Well, look at that. Maybe them bullets done your brain some good." The amazement on his face was as plain as day. I winced at his speech, but turned to him nonetheless.

"Well, we know your vitals r'good," he said, walking past me into another room, "but that don't mean them bullets didn't leave you nuttier than a Bighorner dropping." I made to follow him, and the fact that I knew what a Bighorner was didn't register until much later.

We entered what I assumed to be his living room. A coffee table, a sofa and a comfy looking chair greeted us. "What do you say you take a seat on the couch and we go through a couple of questions, see if your dogs are still barkin'?" he asked politely. Without waiting, he sat in the chair, and motioned for me to sit on the sofa. I complied, and found that sitting down was _not_ what my body wanted. I'd been lying down for two days, my body wanted movement! As such, I was fidgeting heavily when Doc Mitchell addressed me.

"All right. I'm gonna say a word. I want you to say the first thing that comes to mind." I nodded, and the questions began.

"Dog." _Feed._ "House." _Shelter._ "Night." _Dream._ "Bandit." _Stab. Wait…_ "Light" _Dark. _"Mother." _Caretaker._

"Okay," Doc Mitchell said, "I got a few statements. I want you to tell me how much they'd sound like something you'd say…" This went on for a while, including a few Rorschach Paintings (one looked like two bears high-fifing), and then it was over. But the doctor wasn't finished with me just yet.

"Before I turn you loose, I need one more thing from you. I got a form for you to fill out, so that I can get a sense of your medical history." I frowned, doubting that I'd remember. He noticed this, but misinterpreted the message. "Just a formality," he chuckled. "Ain't like I expect to find you got a family history of getting shot in the head."

At this comment, something stirred in me. First, a giggle, then a gasp, and then full-blown laughter. The doctor laughed too. We laughed and laughed until tears rolled from our eyes. I had no idea why it was funny, but it felt good to laugh.

Afterwards, I tried to remember my family, but gave up and just signed the form. He smiled (he's a very smiley guy, that Doc Mitchell) and said "Alright, I guess that about does it. Come with me," he said, as he rose out of the chair, "I'll see you out." I giggled a little, sort of an after shock from before, and stood to follow him.

When we got to the front door, he reached into a bowl on a nearby bench and gave me several things, amongst them a note (I'd read it later), four Stimpaks (the greatest advancement in medical history), 14 Bobby Pins, 18 Caps (Bottle Caps are currency now, as opposed to Paper Money from before the War) and a 9mm Pistol with 21 bullets, along with a small pill bottle, all in a grey backpack.

"Here, these are yours. Was all you had on you when you was brought in." he said, smiling once more. "I hope you don't mind, but I gave the note a look. I thought it might help me find a next of kin," he admitted, "but it was just something about a Platinum Chip."

I immediately stopped listening, trapped in memory. The checkered coat man! He had a platinum chip! I returned to the real world when the doctor attached something to my left wrist. He looked at me. "They call it a Pip-Boy. I grew up in one of them vaults they made before the war. We all got one." _Vaults! Something else I remember!_

_Vaults are large nuclear-shelters that were used to save the citizens of America from nuclear war. There are something like 120 of them around the country. _This jogged another small memory. _There are six vaults in the Mojave: 3, 11, 19, 21, 22 and 34._

"Ain't much use to me now," said Doc Mitchell, bringing me back to reality, "but you might want such a thing, after what you been through." He then looked at the floor, and his voice softened. He closed his eyes and said "I know what it's like, having something taken from you."

He then smiled, and reached onto one of the shelves, grabbing a dark blue jumpsuit. I noticed the bright yellow 21 on the back. _It's a vault jumpsuit. _"And put this on too, so the locals don't pick on you for…" he looked down at my body, then back to my face, and chuckled "lacking modesty." I had completely forgotten that I had no proper clothing!

"It was my wife's. Seems about your size." He said, and then handed it to me. He turned around (not sure why) as I changed. I grinned, genuinely happy. "Thanks for patching me up, Doc." I said, and I meant it. I was truly grateful. He just waved it off and said, "Don't mention it. It's what I'm here for." His face then grew serious.

"You should go see Sunny Smiles before you leave town. She can help you learn to fend for yourself in the desert. She'll likely be at the saloon. I reckon some other folks at the saloon might be able to help you out, too." He walked past me down back towards the living room. "And that metal fella, Victor, who pulled you out of your grave."

Oh. A robot rescued me. I really hate robots. I don't know why.

"Anyway," he called out, "you ever get hurt out there, you come right back. I'll fix you up."

And as he turned the corner, his next words stuck to my mind, and stay with me even now.

"Oh, and Sarah? Try not to get killed anymore." And he was gone.

So, I placed the gun and bullets in my right pocket, the bobby pins in my left, and placed the rest in the backpack. Before I put everything away, I looked at the pill bottle.

'Med-Tek Perk Pills! Guaranteed to perk you right up!'

'Intense Training – Strength'

_Well, the Doc gave them to me…they must be safe…right?_

I swallowed one of the pills, and putting the bottle in the backpack, I turned to the door, the backpack slightly easier to lift (wow, the pill worked fast!) and opened it, ready to begin my adventure of getting the checkered suit guy back!

After I stop being blinded by the intense sun. MY EYES! THEY BURN!

/

_**Sorry for the long wait! I had school, and a trip to Europe, and work experience, and…and just life in general, plus a lack of motivation for whatever reason.**_

_**I hope you enjoy this so far, and I'll update when next I can. I hope the one or two people in my fan base keep reading!**_

_**I will focus heavily on dialogue. Combat scenes, too, but I prefer backstory and dialogue. Enjoy! And thanks RigelGlyth for your support! Visit her page and read her stories while mine are under construction.**_

_**The game was made by Bethesda, not me. If I'd made it, it wouldn't be half as good and Cazadors would cease to exist.**_

_**I HATE CAZADORS!**_

_**Chris The Cat**_


	3. Back In The Saddle

FALLOUT: NEW VEGAS

CHAPTER THREE: BACK IN THE SADDLE

The moment I stepped out of Doc Mitchells house, I was blinded with determination. It didn't occur that maybe it would be bright out, and I was subsequently blinded by sunlight. Nice going, Sarah!

After my eyes stopped melting in their sockets and my vision returned (about five minutes later) I got a good look at this "Goodsprings" town Doc Mitchell mentioned. It was nice enough. The house I just exited was situated on top of a hill, so I got a nice view. Scenic, even.

The main road ran down the hill in front of me, leading out of the town. To the right of the road were several wooden structures. I think they used to be houses. Anyway, some still stood, and I assume they held people. One man was raking his front yard with a…rake. A large windmill stood tall amongst the houses.

The town had two buildings to the left of the road, both single stories like all the others. One looked just like a normal house, nothing worth noting, but the other had a large neon sign on the roof. It said 'PROSPECTOR SALOON'. I assumed that was the saloon I was told to go to, and I began to stroll on over.

I then began to notice how _hot_ it was out. Not just hot, but _scorching_. It felt like the sun came up and gave me a bear hug! I began to sweat profusely, and I got really thirsty. In a way, I was regretting the jumpsuit, but I had nothing else to wear, so the jumpsuit it was. Well that's what happens when nuclear war removes most of the O-zone layer.

It's odd how certain things can pop into your head at the most random times. Like then, when I suddenly remembered that I had that crazy wristwatch thingy the doctor gave me. I figured I'd mess with it later, and I walked up to the saloon door. An old African-American man sat in a rocking chair next to the door, but he was making light snoring noises, so I let him be.

When I opened the door, I was expecting the room to be, I don't know, cooler. But it seemed even hotter inside! The many wooden tables had long since begun to rot, but still decided to stand. A bar stood just before me, with no one behind it. _Lousy service, _I thought. I also noticed two other people in the room with me, as well as a dog next to a duke-box, which was barely working. I'd figured I'd deal with them later, so I found a corner and sat in a chair, and looked at my left wrist.

The Pip-Boy 3000 (as Doc Mitchell called it) glowed, the screen a dull orange color. It currently had the outline of a cartoon boy, with numbers and statistics pointing to his arms, legs, chest and head. He had a little smile. The individual body parts each had some sort of bar next to them. _I wonder…_

So, out of impulse and twisted curiosity, I banged my elbow on the edge of the table. _Hard. _I winced slightly, but looked back at the screen. The little bar next to my left arm had shrunk slightly.

_It seems to be able to accurately measure the condition of my limbs, _I thought. I stared at it a little longer. _What else can it do?_

I spent the next hour and a bit checking out all the functions of my newly acquired super-wristwatch. It could tell the exact time, give me my vital signs, measure my body radiation as well as having a built-in Geiger Counter, it somehow knows how much stuff I'm carrying and how much each individual item weighs and what it is, it has a map, it can hold notes and play audio recordings, it even has a radio! I fiddled with that a bit, and learned that it somehow tapped into my brainwaves. I could hear my radio, and no one else!

The available radio stations were Radio New Vegas, with a man called Mr. New Vegas talking to the audience. He was a very sweet man, calling the audience 'beautiful' and saying he 'loved us'. The next one was just music, and was called Mojave Music Radio. The song on was called Jingle Jangle Jingle. It was catchy, but ultimately not my type of music.

The other stations were the Happy Trails Expedition Broadcast, a message about how some caravan company wanted some people to help them get to a place called New Canaan. The next station was called Black Mountain Radio, but I couldn't listen in on it. All I heard was static. The next one was called Sierra Madre Broadcast, but was just a lady telling me to "_begin again_", whatever that means.

It was the last radio station that caught my attention. It had no name; the Pip-Boy just called it a mysterious broadcast. I tuned in…and immediately fell in love with the song that was playing.

"_**Begin again in the night,**_

_**Let's sway again tonight,**_

_**Your arm on my shoulder,**_

_**Your cheek against mine,**_

_**Where can we go?**_

_**When will we find that we know?"**_

The song kind of gave me this strange feeling in the back of my head. I felt like I needed to…go somewhere. The location flashed in my mind, but was gone before I could take note. It seemed like a good idea to get up and walk to where it wanted me to go, but I shook it off and continued to listen to the song, its slow, sad jazzy tune taking me to another world.

"_**Where can we go?**_

_**When will we find that we know?**_

_**To let go?**_

_**Begin, begin again tonight."**_

The song repeated again (ha, it 'began again') and I happily listened to it again. The location flashed in my mind, and I placed it on my Pip-Boy map without even thinking about it. My thoughts were nothing, my only instincts were to blink, breathe, and go to the place that the song was telling me to. I rose out of my seat, the song so beautiful in my mind. I had to follow it. I had to-

**BARK BARK BARK!**

I jumped in shock, and suddenly the headache stopped, and I began to think again. My first reaction was to turn off the radio. What was that song? It seemed to…hypnotize me with it's beauty…

The dog in front of me continued to snarl and bark until a young woman came to silence it. "Cheyenne, stay!" she yelled, and the dog known as Cheyenne backed away. The woman looked at me, and gave me a warm smile. "Don't worry, she won't bite 'nless I tell her to."

I took note of how she looked, as I do.

_Human. Female. Caucasian. Looks between twenty-five and thirty. Red hair tied back in a ponytail, like mine. Freckles, like mine. Green eyes, like mine. _

I held out my hand as a gesture of greeting, and I smiled. "Hello, I'm Sarah." The woman took my hand and shook it. "Name's Sunny Smiles" she said as she let go. "You got a last name?" she asked. I frowned, forgetting that I needed a surname. I put it aside for now, simply replying, "Just call me Sarah."

"Okay then, Sarah. Welcome to Goodsprings!" Sunny greeted heartily. "Now what're you here for?" "Doc Mitchell said you could teach me to survive in the desert." I responded flatly. Sunny frowned slightly. "Yeah," she said, "I guess there's a thing or two I could show you." She stared at my forehead, no doubt noticing the scars. "Sounds like you need all the help you can get after what they done to you. Meet me outside, behind the saloon." And with that, Sunny just turned around and walked into the back rooms of the saloon, where I heard a door open and close. I followed her like a lost little lamb.

Now outside, Sunny had lined up several brown glass bottles along the saloons back fence. She simply handed me a rifle (my Pip-Boy called it a Varmint Rifle) and a bandolier full of bullets (identified as 5.56 rounds) and said, "Now, see those Sarsaparilla bottles on the fence there?" She raised her own Varmint Rifle to point at them. "Take the Varmint Rifle and try to hit a couple of 'em. Three should do." I wanted to tell her that a couple bottles was not three bottles, but decided against it, and aimed at one. My shot went wide and hit the wooden wall behind it. Sunny explained what I did wrong.

My first mistake was that I didn't look down the iron-sight, so I couldn't properly aim. My second mistake was that I wasn't crouching, so I was less accurate. After correcting myself, I tried again but was still off slightly. Sunny placed her hands on my stomach and the back of my neck, and forced me into a straight-kneeling position. I hit the bottle dead in the middle, and the second and third bottles shared the same fate. I remember saying something along the lines of "All bottles shall fall before my glory", which raised a giggle out of Sunny. Cheyenne sat there the whole time, trying to sleep, and jumping in fright whenever I fired a shot. It was kind of cute.

"Well, that's a start." Sunny said, scratching Cheyenne under the ears, "But I don't reckon you came to me to learn to fight Sarsaparilla bottles." She looked over her shoulder, and sniffed loudly. She then tuned back to me and paused. She stood still for a bit, seemingly contemplating something, and then gave a long sigh. "Tell you what," she said, "I gotta go chase Geckos away from our water supply anyway. Darn critters are attracted to it. Why don't you come along?"

I was strangely overjoyed at the thought of moving targets. "Okay, I'm in!" I said excitedly, hopping up and down. Sunny stared at me oddly. "Follow me," she said slowly, "it's just down to the southeast a short ways." Sunny turned and began to jog towards her destination, and I followed her, again like a lost little lamb. Well, I kinda was.

After a good five-minute jog, I was almost out of breath, but Sunny was breathing normally, perfectly fine. We arrived at a small ridge, and Sunny suddenly stopped. I…wasn't really paying attention, and ended up running straight into her. With an _oomph_, we both fell, and I landed on top of her, while she lay face down in the dirt.

"Get offa me, you darn fool!" she growled. "They might hear us!" Sunny pushed me off rather roughly. Cheyenne had this curious look on her face, and made a happy bark when Sunny pushed me off of her. It was almost as if the dog was _laughing_ at me. Frowning, I arose, and Sunny motioned to the ridge.

A strange noise came from over the ridge, a sort of, I don't know, chirping? _Wahohahohahahahohoh_. "Hear that up on that ridge behind me there?" she asked. Sunny began to smile, a little smile of sadistic glee. "We got some Geckos to clear out." Her face suddenly contorted with anger. "Bunch of little monsters is what they are. Seems like Doc Mitchell treats more Gecko bites than anything else."

Sunny then crouched down, and began to sneak her way around the ridge. She looked behind her to see if I was following. "Let's see if we can get a little closer. If we move quietly, we can get the jump on 'em. More likely to hit something vital that way." She just crouched there, doing nothing. "You're on. Go give 'em hell!"

I did just that, crouching like she did and sneaking around the ridge, scanning the area in front of me the whole time. I noticed some small movement behind a bush, and when I looked a little closer, I saw a flash of indigo. And then it came out from behind the bush.

It was a Gecko, obviously. It was a lizard, about two feet tall, standing on its back legs, red eyes reflecting the harsh sunlight. A mouth of razor-sharp teeth made up most of its face, while two little frills rested flat on each side of its head. Its tail was thick, but not thick enough to be used as a weapon. Its claws were yellow like its teeth. Not the most pleasant looking creature let me tell you!

I closed my eyes, and held my breath. My eyes opened, and I aimed down my sights, training on the large lizard the whole time. I fingered the trigger, waiting until I had a clear shot…

_BANG!_

One gunshot and a spurt of red later, the Gecko in question was lying facedown on the ground in its own blood. But I didn't notice that. I was too busy with another memory.

/

_Bright green eyes surrounded by red. Labored breathing. A plea for help. _

"_Please, don't hurt us…we didn't do anything wrong. We'll go with you, just…leave our daughter alone…please…"_

"_Sssssssss…cccccccccc…ssssssssss…cccccccccc"_

"_What are you doing? No! NO!"_

_The scream of a grown woman and a young girl echo through the night. A man pulls out a gun._

"_Daddy, shoot the monster!"_

_The gun fires at the green eyes, but they do nothing. More green eyes appear out of the red. They close on the man, one with brown teeth on it's hand._

_BANG! BANG!_

"_Sssssssss…cccccccccc…ssssssssss…cccccccccc"_

_The green eyes strike, the brown teeth closing around the mans neck._

_CLANG!_

_He gurgles and dies._

"_AUGH! Ooohhh…oh…"_

"_Daddy! Get up!"_

"_Sssssssss…cccccccccc…ssssssssss…cccccccccc"_

_The first green eyes have had an eye shot. It is a single green eye floating in red. They grab the woman and drag her into the red._

"_Sarah! Run! RUN!"_

"_MOMMY!"_

_The green eyes disappear into the red, one lingering to stare at the young girl, its lone green eye staring at her._

"_Sssssssss…cccccccccc…ssssssssss…cccccccccc"_

/

What brought me back to reality was the sharp pain in my right leg. The sharp pain might, _might_, have been coming from the Gecko with its teeth buried into my skin. A sharp cry of pain and a bullet lodged in a Gecko skull later, that problem was solved, and I had a rather nasty bite that was bleeding very heavily.

I panicked. _What will I do? Will I bleed out in the desert? Where are Sunny and the dog? What was that memory? _BRAIN OVERLOAD!

I started to calm myself down by breathing slower, and then took off my backpack and grabbed a Stimpack. I pushed the needle directly into the wound, and injected the fluid inside. I could feel the skin and muscle knit itself together through the almost blinding pain. _Greatest advancement in medical history my ass._

After the bite wound healed and I stopped moaning like I was six again, I stood up, and limped back in the direction of the town. Now that I think about it, I would have liked to know where Sunny went off to, but that thought was for another time. My current thoughts were filled with only one sound.

"_Sssssssss…cccccccccc…ssssssssss…cccccccccc"_

It sounds like…breathing? I didn't know. I just hobbled off to town for my next assignment, if Sunny thought I had it in me.

/

_**The strange noise in Sarah's memory is DLC related, in case the non-DLC havers didn't pick up on that. For those that do, I think you can guess what the noise is, and what horrific monster it belongs to.**_

_**Also, the song "Begin Again" actually sounds really haunting. I love to listen to it, but only on the Pip-Boy radio. It just…doesn't sound the same on YouTube. **_

_**The game was made by Bethesda, not me. If I'd made it, it wouldn't be half as good and Cazadors would cease to exist.**_

_**I HATE CAZADORS!**_

_**Chris The Cat**_


	4. By A Campfire On The Trail

FALLOUT: NEW VEGAS

CHAPTER FOUR: BY A CAMPFIRE ON THE TRAIL

Evidently, hobbling back to town was slightly harder than I thought it would be. I mean, the sun was glaring, and the wind blew sand in my eyes – aw, screw it, I got lost. So, instead of heading towards Goodsprings, I ended up going the opposite direction. Maybe I was distracted by the breathing noises, I forget.

I walk a little further. And a little further than that. And then further still. I was beginning to lose hope when I heard a loud cry. "Help me!" The voice sounded feminine, and was in distress. _Well, _I thought, _I guess this should make up for my lack of Gecko-killing skills._ So I ran in the general direction of the voice.

_This person sounds like she's in real trouble! I need to hurry up! I need to-_

_Wahohahohahahahohoh_.

_You know, she doesn't sound _that _distressed…_

I pushed down the cowardly voice and headed of to save this woman from what I assumed were Geckos. And I was right. Three of them. Surrounding a woman in a nice red dress. The woman had a meat cleaver for protection, but she wasn't doing so well. I could see she was bleeding with bite wounds to her arms and her left leg.

So I did what Sunny taught me. I knelt down, looked down the sights, and aimed at a Gecko.

_BANG!_ The Gecko fell, a bullet wound in its right eye. The other Geckos stopped attacking the girl and looked in my direction. One of them, who looked slightly bigger, charged at me, while the smaller one continued attacking the girl.

_Crap crap crap crap crap!_

The Gecko was close enough to leap at me, and so it did. It opened its large mouth as it sailed through the air…

I held my Varmint Rifle in front of my face as a form of defense…

I felt an impact…

I stood there for a few seconds, eyes closed. I could feel the Geckos hot breath on my face, but it wasn't biting me. I dared to open one eye. What I saw amazed and confused my.

When I had held up my Varmint Rifle to protect myself, it had been just the right length to jam itself into the Geckos mouth. It was stuck there, trying to free itself from its little predicament, making that weird Gecko noise the whole time.

At which point, I noticed my gun had the barrel pointed right at the roof of the Geckos mouth.

An evil little grin appeared on my face as I pulled the trigger, covering myself with hot red Gecko blood. The Gecko went limp, and I pried the dead lizard off of my gun, and went off to find the girl and the other Gecko.

As it turns out, the girl killed the Gecko with her meat cleaver, as she was covered in her blood and Gecko blood herself, her meat cleaver was dark red, and the Gecko in question was nowhere to be found.

"Hey!" I yelled to get her attention. She seemed a little…out of it. Maybe that was her first kill. She looked at me, her eyes void of emotion. Then, she seemed to tilt her head slightly, before her eyes opened wide and she rushed over to me.

I was expecting a few words of thanks, but I was pulled into a hug instead. A bear hug. My thoughts at the time were something along the lines of _HELP CAN'T BREATHE._

She finally let go, and let out a breath of relief. As did I, but for different reasons. "Holy moly! If you hadn't come here like you done, I'd be a goner for sure." She said, and then looked up to the sky and made a symbol of the cross over her chest. I _so badly_ wanted to correct her grammar, but I kept my mouth shut out of politeness. She then looked back at me. "I came up here to draw water," she said, motioning back to the well she was standing in front of, "but you can have what I got." She paused for a second. "You look thirsty." She said finally.

Handing me a bottle of water, she turned and left with a final "Thank you." I felt strangely…happy. It seems being nice has that effect. I tried to be even nicer by offering to help her back to Goodsprings, but she seemed fine, despite the several Gecko bites on her limbs. As she hobbled back to town, Sunny came rushing up to me.

"Now _that_ was some good work. Even got a little exciting there at the end." Sunny smiled at me, and I truly felt on top of the world. I heard my Pip-Boy give off a little noise, but I ignored it for the moment, instead focusing on my new friend (I hoped).

"Here's a little spending money for the trouble." Sunny handed me a small brown pouch, and I gladly accepted it, taking off my backpack as I listened to Sunny talking, and placing the pouch inside. "Now there's something else I wanted to show you. Thought I might teach you how to live off of the land, and make useful things for yourself. Interested?"

I thought it over for a few seconds, and came to the conclusion that these people _did_ save my life. I should do whatever they say. I sniffed, and said, "Couldn't hurt."

"Alright then." Sunny said, a little more serious this time. "We'll need a couple of ingredients to get started. Going to want some Xander Root and a Broc Flower." She stared at me for a while, just thinking. I could see she wasn't actually focusing on me, just looking my direction. I waited for a while longer until she finally spoke.

"Lemme think now…" she said, because I wasn't doing that for the past thirty seconds. "I know I've see some Broc Flowers growing up at the graveyard, and I seem to recall some Xander Root growing over by the schoolhouse. Bring those on back to me," she said, smiling at me again, "and we'll get cooking."

Sunny walked off towards a small campfire, Cheyenne following her loyally, tail wagging. I set off towards town, where I believed the schoolhouse would be.

/

I was _tired_. I was panting nearly as much as Cheyenne. I decided to take a little rest under a shady rock. Placing my back against the stone, I slid down until I was sitting in a semi-comfortable position. Sighing, I sat there for at least ten minutes, admiring the broken landscape, eyeing the town in the distance. I seemed to remember something about my Pip-Boy, which was the only thing keeping me awake.

So, I looked at the thing, to find a message on the screen.

_**Goodsprings Reputation: Accepted**_

_Well, that's a start._

I sat there, baking in the sun, thinking over what had happened this past day. Waking up, Doc Mitchell, being half blinded, the pill bottle, the Pip-Boy, Sunny and Cheyenne, the Geckos, the girl…_Huh, I never caught her name._ I also thought back worriedly to how much I enjoyed killing that one Gecko.

_I don't think it's normal to like killing something so much. I mean, it can't compare to how nice it felt saving that poor girl, but still…_

I checked my Pip-Boy clock, and noticed with alarm that almost a whole hour had gone by! _Come on Sarah, you have to get up,_ I thought to myself. You aren't supposed to get a reply when you think to yourself. So you can understand my reaction when I got a reply!

_But Mommy, I don't wanna!_

_Sweety, you have to. We're moving out today! Your father finally found the radio signal!_

_*gasp* Really? Wow, Mommy! We get to go to the place with all that treasure?_

_That's right Sarah. Now up you hop. We got a long day ahead of us._

_Hey Mommy?_

_Yes, sweety?_

_What's the place we're going to go to called?_

_It's a place that lots of people don't think is real! They call it the Sierra Madre Casino!_

"_Sssssssss…cccccccccc…ssssssssss…cccccccccc"_

_MOMMY!_

/

I bolted upright, screaming. Breathing in and out rapidly, I looked around. _I'm near Goodsprings, not anywhere dangerous. Calm down, girl._ I slowed my breathing, stood, and continued my walk into town.

Evidently, I wasn't the only one to hear my scream, because a few steps into town, I was greeted by a big blue hunk of steel on one wheel. I assumed correctly that this was Victor, the robot that had dug me up. I hate robots.

"Well, howdy partner! Might I say you're lookin' fit as a fiddle!" Victor greeted me. I would say that it greeted me warmly, but robots can't feel emotion. I stared at it, a dust-covered screen in the middle of the robots body my point of focus. The screen had a picture of a cowboys face on it. It stared at me, unmoving. I stared at it, equally unmoving.

Finally, I spoke. "How did you happen to find me?" I stared at it, waiting for it to answer me, though I didn't really want to hear it. Victor obliged. "I was out for a stroll that night when I heard a commotion up at the old bone orchard." I assumed it meant the graveyard. "Saw what looked like a bunch of bad eggs, so I laid low."

"You could have saved me!" I yelled, losing my temper at the machine. "I was shot in the head, and you don't even try to save me? 'A bunch of bad eggs?' What the hell does that even mean? Damn robot!" I kicked Victors wheel. In response, its right hand opened up to reveal the barrel of some sort of gun. The face on the screen changed to one of an angry cowboy.

"Don't try that again, little lady. Just warning you."

The gun retracted, and the screen turned to normal. Victor stared at me, and it was making a few mechanical noises. "What was I sayin'? Oh yeah, once they'd run off, I dug you up to see if you was still kickin'. Turns out you were, so I hauled you off to the Doc right quick."

I simply glared at the machine. It had shown some sort of programmed defense system, but not emotion. _If Victor was an AI, then I could handle that. I can deal with them. Not robots._ I frowned. _Where did those thoughts come from?_ I shook my head and walked away, ignoring Victor's farewell of "Be seein' you."

I arrived at the schoolhouse and picked three Xander Roots from outside, and left to walk up to the graveyard. As I made my way up the hill, I heard a slight rustling. I stopped and looked around. _It can't be Geckos, this is too close to town, _I thought. Nothing showed up, though, so I kept walking up the hill.

I stopped. _There it is again,_ I thought. I looked behind me to see if I was being followed, and sure enough, a large brown scorpion was following me. It made a hissing sound, and ran full speed towards me. Granted this wasn't very fast, so I took out my gun and shot it straight in the face.

I was about to walk away when I remembered something Sunny had said about living off of the land. _Should I?..._I decided it to be fine, and went back to the scorpions corpse. I used my bare hands to crack the shell around its tail, and took the gland containing its poison. Placing it in my backpack, I continued up the hill, to the graveyard.

Several large Bloatflies, something else I knew about, but was unable to explain how, greeted me. They didn't seem to care about me, and just buzzed around. If they weren't hostile to me, I wouldn't be to them. My search in the graveyard gave me three points of interest.

Interesting point one was the Broc Flower, which I picked. Interesting point number two was the grave next to it. It was fresh, and was dug up recently. It was _my_ grave.

Somehow, the realization that it was my grave didn't seem all that relevant. I did, however, have an uncontrollable urge to look for anything interesting around the shallow grave. My results were successful; I found seven cigarette butts of a distinct brand. The smell of those cigarettes came back to me as I remembered the night I was shot.

The third interesting point was something I spotted at the last second. It was a small Snow globe, the light of the sun shining off the glass into my eyes. I walked over to pick it up, but stopped myself when I noticed that it was on top of a grave. Not really caring at this point, I took it anyway. It said:

_**Limited Edition Vault-Tec Collectable Snow globe: Goodsprings**_

Deciding that it was worth keeping, I placed it in my pack, and made the long trip back to Sunny. By now it was sunset, and Sunny was not to pleased by how long I took. She calmed down when I showed her the ingredients.

"Lemme see what you got. Yeah, these'll do just fine. _Just_ fine." Sunny then sat down near the campfire, and after lighting a match, started a fire. "Alright now. We're going to be making something folks out on the trail call Healing Powder," she said. Sunny then motioned to the campfire. "Go on. Give it a try."

She took a few minutes to explain how to make it properly. Honestly, it wasn't so bad. Just grind up the flower into a fine powder, then cook the Xander Root for about half an hour and grind that up too. Then place them in a pouch, and place that pouch over the fire enough so that it won't burn for about twenty minutes. Then, bam! Healing Powder.

"Hey, that's not bad! See? All it takes to make a good recipe is the right ingredients and the right know-how." Sunny then stood, and began to speak some more. "But, sometimes it won't be a campfire you need. Maybe you need some work on your guns and ammo. It's all the same idea, really. You just need to know where to set up shop. Work bench or…reloading bench, whatever."

Sunny stretched her arms out above her head, and smiled, saying, "Well, I hope that's enough to get you started." She then started to walk away, motioning Cheyenne to follow. "I'm heading back now. Hope I didn't miss anything on the jukebox." She chuckled slightly. "Cheyenne would never forgive me." Cheyenne barked I agreement, then began panting happily as she followed Sunny back to town.

I put the Healing Powder into my backpack, and I followed, although I stayed back to keep some space between her and I. I'd had enough of her overly cheery attitude.

And so, I walked back to town, back up to Doc Mitchells place, for some long deserved rest.

/

_Hey, Daddy?_

_Yes Sarah?_

_How long until we get there? The red cloud makes my eyes sting._

_Don't worry, Sarah. We'll be out of it soon. We just need to find a way into the Casino. _

_Alan, are you sure about this? I think we're being followed._

_Nonsense, Menka. We are alone. No-one knows where this place really is. We are the only-_

"_Sssssssss…cccccccccc…ssssssssss…cccccccccc"_

_Daddy…what was that?_

/

_**So, Sarah is a little freaked out by how much she enjoyed murdering that Gecko, but she liked the feeling of helping people more. That's always a good sign.**_

_**Now, I will be delving into Old World Blues in a few chapters, because I want to get it out of the way, and I also want to have an explanation as to how the character can tell how much ammo they have, how much health and action points they have, and all that, and so we can have a better explanation than "game mechanic." That never really settled with me. I also want to showcase the Think Tank soon. They are an…interesting bunch.**_

_**Also, I will bring along a companion or two to the Big Empty, even though you can't in-game.**_

_**The game was made by Bethesda, not me. If I'd made it, it wouldn't be half as good and Cazadors would cease to exist.**_

_**I HATE CAZADORS!**_

_**Chris The Cat**_


End file.
